Black Innocence
by Jopeth23
Summary: My entry to the Save TJM! Group monthly challenge. When darkness falls upon Hillwood, a different city appears. A city where shadows are longer, the nights are darker, and beings you thought that only exists in myths and horror stories prowl the shadows. Come, young one, take a bite, for the night is dark and full of terrors...
1. Rejoice, for you are Damned

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold!, its characters, and its settings.**

**A/N: This fic is written as an entry for the Save TJM! Facebook group challenge which is aboout writing a fic about an urban legend revolving around some sort of monster, or something. Instead of following the same pattern as with the urban legend episodes in the show, I decided to follow my own style and turn this into a gothic, horror fic. **

**Rejoice, for you are Damned**

When darkness falls upon Hillwood, a diffferent city appears. Just like a lantern, it entices unuspecting swarms of moths with it glitteering lights, vibrant places, and an illusion of seaside paradise nestled within the metropolis.

But behind the lights lies a different world; a world where shadows are longer, nights are darker, and the winds breathes of sinister dread upon who who dare tread upon the darkness. Horrors that feed tales of creatures stalking unsuspecting victims. Creatures that can appear out of nowhere, pounce on their victims faster than a blink of an eye, and fade back into the darkness once they had their fill. Creatures that look like humans, but leap across streets in a single bound, move so fast that you will see nothing but s blur, bend the will of their unsuspecting prey to do their bidding, and turn into a wolf, bat, or mist right before the eyes of the few who who (un)lucky enough to seee them.

They say these are myths; tales to scare children into not lignering after hours. Fairy taallees. Tales spund by drunken bums who had too much to drink.

I say, they are _real_.

I know thiss becauseb I am _one of them_.

Nosferatu, wampyr, chupacabra, ghoul, we go by many names.

_Vampires._

That's what most calls us.

We may fall into that nomenclature, as humans wish to put into.

We feed on blood, yes.

Our only bane if fire and sunlight.

But hen again, we are creatures like them, aren't we?

Depending on which perspective you look upon, there is a certain order that God created on this world.

Plants live off the soil.

The cows and other plant-eaters feed on the plants.

And men live off from the cows and plant-eaters.

And we live off from their life-source: _their blood._

We are on the top of the natural order, so to speak..

But hunters we may be, we do not seek to dominate nor subjugate these mortals, nor we do not wish to hunt rampantly, lest we risk the secrecy of our existence.

God has a purpose on giving us this Curse, and putting us above humans.

We are monsters, yes, there's no denying that. But we are still one of God's creatures, are we not?

We strive to be God's perfect predators. We celebrate and uphold our Curse, instead of denying it. We are the Drinker of mankind, his Dark Angels, his Hounds of His Flock. We are to torment and punish the sinners and those who stray far away from him, so that they may see the horrors and darkness of sin and turn to back to His Light.

With this Curse, we shall be His loyal servants. We shall embrace this curse, instead of shunning it, and we shall forever celebrate His glory by fulfilling our Divine Purpose.

We are the Lancea Sanctum, the Sanctified vampires. We are Damned not to see the light of day, and forever linger and prowl in darkness, punishing the sinners, showing the horrors of their sinful ways, so the in the End of Days, He may welcome us in His Kingdom, and forever bask in His Light.

Do not be afraid, my young one.

Rejoice now, for you are Damned.

- _Arnold Shortman_

_High Priest of the Lancea Sanctum_


	2. Black Innocence

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold!, its character and setting, and the Lancea Sanctum, which is the property of White Wolf Entertainment.**

**Black Innocence**

_"I am God's holy monster, the drinker of mankind. For so long, I could not see the role I would play, because I looked for it with human, mortal eyes. So I put forth the truth in these pages, for you who seek as I have sought. I am not some godless beast who stalks beneath the dark grandeur of sanctity. I am the grandeur. I am SANCTIFIED."_

_ - The Testament of Longinus, the holy scripture of the Lancea Sanctum_

It was a dark night.

The moon hid beneath the thick clouds that overcast the sky. It has been pouring for the past few hours, but the downpour has weakened into a drizzle. The uneven pavement of the downtown streets were filled with island of puddles. It looked as if the streets were splashed with buckets of neon paint.

On one of the rooftops, a shadow watches below. It was past ten in the evening, yet the main street was still filled with people. Some were young party-goers heading to the city's party district. Others were employees either heading from work to home or vice-versa, crowding the sidewalk while waiting for a bus, taxi, or heading down to the subway station.

The shadow singled out a person among the crowd below. She was a young lady in her mid-twenties (or what she appears to be). She was dressed like she's going to the clubs in the party district. She overdid her make-up, her blood-red lipstick overcoated her full lips, and her blush-on made it appear as if she had been slapped on the cheeks repeatedly. Her dark eyeshadows gave an impression that her eyes were no more than a pair of eyeballs floating in a blue hollow space.

This was better than going out with her unnatural pallor.

She seemed like a skank, or even a cheap street whore that lurked the streets in those hours, inviting would-be clients to rent out their services for hours, or if they were lucky enough, the whole night.

She was aware, and it was her intention to look like that. She did not mind both the lustful gazes of men wishng to take her tonight, and spiteful glares of self-righteous people who look down on her kind. This was the task given to her for this night. She dyed her natural blonde hair black, and got a cheap butterfly tattoo on her back earlier in the night. She knew that after this task was done and she goes back to her slumber, all will be gone once she wakes up the next evening. Her hair would be the same golden blonde she had almost a year ago. Her skin will be the same fair, smooth skin that men have lusted upon a year before she had mysteriously disappeared.

As she neared the dark alley intersecting the main street, she paused to adjust her black tube top barely covering her rich breasts. She gave a quick glance above her. He was still watching her alright atop the shadows of the rooftop. She then looked around to see if anyone was watching her, aside from _him_ watching her from above. With her enhanced peripheral vision, she caught the sight of a scrawny man in his mid-twenties leaning against the corner wall that leads into a dark alley, lustfully gazing at her as if savoring every inch of her body. She smiled at him, and gave him a wink. The man replied with an idiotic grin, taking this as a sign as she walked past him and headed to the dark alley.

The shadow watching from above trained his sight on the young woman below. With preternatural skill, he focused his sight and hearing to the alley below, perceiving the slightest shake and jerk of the man's body who seemed to be filled with lustful delight as he walked a few feet behind the young lady. He can hear clearly from atop the rooftop his deep breathing and the quickening pace of his heartbeat as he drew closer to his object of desire.

When they reached the darkest corner of the alley. the lady stopped and turned to the man, who was now drawing closer to her like a wolf ready to snatch his prey.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"You," he replied, taking a step forward.

"What do you mean 'me'?" she asked flirtatiously, as she backed way from him, teasing him everytime he tries to advance on to her.

"I mean 'you'," he said, drawing _ever so_ closer to her.

She tried to back away from her further, but felt the cold wall against her back.

"If you think about getting lucky tonight, this ain't your night. I don't do it for free, you know," she snapped back at him as he tried to draw his head closer unto her face.

"C'mon, I'm sure you already hit your quota for tonight, so I guess you can throw this one for free," he replied, leering at her as he drew his face closer, stopping an inch away from her.

She looked upon his grimy, pockmarked face. He reeks badly of sweat and booze. It's a good thing she has no longer the need to breathe.

"So you like freebies, eh?" she teasingly asked, stroking her neck, stoking his lustful desire that burned within him. "What kind of 'freebie' would you want?"

"All the way, baby!" he quickly replied, his bloodshot eyes widening with delight. She did not realize that his right palm was already cupping her breast.

She smiled impishly, "Alrighty, but I'm gonna do this once, okay? Don't expect the next one to be free."

The man quickly buried his face into hers, pinning her against the wall. She tried to push him back, but it was too late. He was busy mashing her breasts, putting his weight unto her. His hips was pounding wildly against her crotch, as if a hungry beast greedily feeding upon its kill.

After a minute of savoring his lustful moment, he suddenly paused and looked at her. Her lipstick was now smudged messily across her face and unto his. Her tube top has almost been stripped off, leaving one of her breast exposed. He looked puzzled as he gazed upon her.

Something was not right. Something was _definitely not_ right about her.

"Why did you stop?"

"No-nothing..." he stammered. "'Coz...you're so..."

"I'm so _what_?"

"I've fucked lots of chicks before but..." he then cupped his hand over her exposed breast. "But you're so cold..."

"Cold?" she laughed shrilly. "Am I not _hot enough_ for you, babe?"

"I don't mean cold _'cold', _what i mean is..." he paused.

She then gripped his arm, summoning her preternatural strength. It was a grip like no other, tighter than any man of great strength could. It was as if it could snap his bone into two like a twig, or rip off his arm from its socket. The man winced out of pain. She pulled him close, locking her gaze unto his.

"Listen. If I were you, I would just give in," she said sternly, her crystal blue eyes unblinking. Hey stony gaze locked upon his quivering bloodshot eyes. She then delved into the innards of his mind, and forced her will upon him, rendering him helpless, pliable to her will.

She pulled him, swinging and pinning him against the wall, switching places with him. He just stood there like an obedient ragdoll. He was just staring blankly at his front. He wanted to resist, to punch, kick, or at least shove her away, but he can't. His mind has no will or strength to do so. He was completely helpless against her vise-like grip on his arms, pinning him with her unnatural strength against the rough wall.

Then she buried her face in the crook of his neck, and started licking the skin as if a hungry animal tasting a sample of its meal. With a quick tug, she snapped loose his belt buckle and the button of his pants. She dug her right hand inside his pants and into his crotch, while his left kept his shoulder pinned against the wall, bearing down unto him her unnatural weight. She felt his heartbeat racing as his blood filled his organ and hardened to its fullest. She stroked its whole length as she continued licking his neck, tasting every sweaty and grimy inch of his skin. He could do nothing more but to moan and let his body ride the wave of his lust.

_"Lord, for the meal I am about to partake, let me be truly thankful," _she whispered a prayer before baring her sharp fangs and sinking it into his neck.

He did not scream in pain or anything, but instead moaned some more, his eyes rolling up in deep ecstasy. This is better than any sex he had with women and young girls he violated. This was better than any booze he had in his whole life. This was better than any drug that he have taken before. This was beyond his comprehension. If he knew something like this existed before he took his first hit with with, then he could have sought this back then and would come back for more.

She knew that her fangs would cause no pain. Instead, it will cause deep ecstasy upon her victim. This was the power of the Kiss, or a vampire's bite. She could recall her early lessons from her "Sire" when she was newly "Embraced" that the Almighty gave them this power to be His perfect predators. With the Kiss, they would entice their victim, and with wise use, make them slaves to it, asking for more, therefore ensuring a steady supply of Blood to themselves.

Or seasoned hunters could reverse the effects of the Kiss and cause inexplicable pain upon their victims instead. This was to punish sinners and let them have a sample of the pain that awaits them if they choose to continue their wicked ways. After all, she was Embraced under the Lancea Sanctum, a vampiric order to which her Sire belongs to.

Her fangs punctured deep into his skin and into his jugular artery. Blood flooded her mouth and flowed freely to her throat. The sensation of the warm fluid gushing through her as her victim's heart pounded harder was beyond her. It felt like fire gradually warming her body from the inside. The Beast within her raged, fueled by Blood, demanding her to consume every drop of his victim's life source, savage his body, and wring him dry to satiate its unending hunger.

She snarled as she greedily drank his blood. She could feel his heart slowing down. The amount of blood that goes through her throat was lessening. She knew that if she went on sucking every drop of his life-source, he would be nothing but a dried up husk. She needed to stop. She was only to feed on him, but _not kill him_. But her Beast demands more Blood. It took over her, and clamped his neck harder with her fangs.

"Stop it right now." A stern voice commanded her from the shadows.

She let go of her victim, tossing him aside like a ragdoll, and looked behind her to see who it was. Blood was smeared across her face, some of it was dripping from her mouth to her chin. Her eyes narrowed at the shadowy silhouette cast against the lights from the main street. She hissed like an angry cat at him. The shadow drew closer, and she began to recognize him.

It was her Sire, the one who Embraced her into this dark, shadowy existence. It was the human formerly known as Arnold Shortman, now simply known as Father Arnold of the Lancea Sanctum. He looked at her sternly and with obvious disapproval with his emerald green eyes.

"Let go of him, Helga."

Her Beast have now overtaken the rational part of her mind. She was no more than a feral animal who was now threatened by the presence of this stronger Beast. Her Beast took him as another animal threatening to steal its meal from it. Helga hissed and snarled at him, baring her fangs, crouching low, preparing lunge at him.

_**WOOSH! THUGSSH!**_

He moved so quick that his movements was lost in a blur, and quickly reappeared in front of Helga, connecting a fierce punch to her jaw. He summoned the power of his Blood to make him move faster than what the eye could perceive, and burned enough of It to tighten his flesh into a metal-like consistency, making his punch harder than a sledgehammer hitting a concrete wall. He sent the female vampire literally flying over to the dumpsters, where she landed hard, causing the sheet metal containers to bend and crumple upon impact. This could have killed a normal mortal, but not her. She was no longer human. The impact crushed half of her skull, but then she still got up, her Beast seeking retaliation to the one who caused injury upon her. She let out a feral snarl, her mouth was frothing with reddish foam like a rabid wolf, seeking to destroy her attacker. She rose a bit to seek her enemy and...

_**WOOSH! SHUBSHHH!**_

...a blur of shadow moved for a split second in front of her, and pinned her down in the neck to the ground. She tried to struggle out of his clutches, her mouth frothing red, her hands clawing wildly on his shoulders, face, and chest. He ignored the pain of her nails digging through his undead flesh. After all, pain is just an echo of the remnants of humanity left more than fifty years ago. He summoned his stronger Beast, strengthened by time and Blood, in order to push the weaker Beast back to its cage. It's time to teach the "neonate" (young vampire) to know it place. He tightened his stranglehold on her, and locked his gaze unto her bloodshot blue eyes. He forced his will through her mind clouded by the Beast's blind rage.

_"Helga, stop this madness, in the name of the Prophet!" _he roared at her, her command echoing through the dark alley.

As if by some magic, she stopped snarling and thrashing about. Her bloodshot eyes filled with rage was now replaced with a dumb docile gaze. The foam on her mouth subsided, and was now wide agape with awe and fear. Her Beast was sent scurrying back to its cage, filled with terror with the stronger Beast's show of force. Arnold's eyes was now filled with rage. A low snarl could be heard from him. His Beast was now out of its cage, and now the weaker Beast have now submitted, it is now pushing Arnold to finish her and tear her to pieces to satisfy its rage.

But he knew better than to let his Beast cloud his better judgement. With sheer willpower, he pushed back his Beast back to its cage. His rage subsided, and he relaxed his hold on Helga's neck. He got off her, and dusted his black leather jacket which got ripped in the struggle. He then looked at Helga, who now looked scared and sullen. The half of her skull was still deformed from the impact when she crashed on the dumpster. Her face was grotesquely disfigured, her jaw shattered and was shoved to the right from the blow he received from Arnold. He sighed in disgust.

"Heal yourself with Blood. You've drank more than your fill for tonight."

Helga obediently nodded, and summoned the power of her Blood to regenerate the damage in her body. Her skull quickly reformed, her wounds closed up rapidly. Her face went back to it former shape. She wiped away the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked down at herself. She's half-naked save for the tattered remains of her tube top that somehow survived in the struggle. She vainly tried to cover herself in shame. Suddenly, a leather jacket came flying to her direction. She caught it and covered herself with it. It was Arnold's jacket. It got ripped at some places.

"Th-thanks, Arnold..." she shyly said.

He merely nodded in reply. He was wearing a black Ramones t-shirt which got ripped as well from the struggle. The deep gashes on his chest, shoulder, and face quickly healed and disappeared before her eyes. He have used to power of Blood as well to recover from his injuries. He then ran his fingers through his messy blond hair which got disheveled in the struggle. She hung her head in shame. She knew that this was not he was expecting to happen for tonight. This was supposed the first night she was supposed to hunt by herself for tonight. But these were the things that unfolded...

"A-Arnold...I'm so sorry..."

"He's dead, Helga..." he grimly said, heading towards the scrawny man who was now lying limply on the ground, the gash on his neck still wide agape, blood no longer gushing from it as Helga drained his corpse dry. He kicked it on the side, and after getting no reaction from him, he then nodded.

"Yes, he's dead alright. I'm calling Lila to clean up this mess," he said gruffly, taking out a cellphone from the pocket of his tattered denim pants. He dialled a number, and after a few seconds, someone picked up on the other end of the line.

"Yes, Lila. It's me. Listen...Helga had a...little accident here. Please come over here and clean up the mess she made..." he turned to Helga, who hung her head in shame. "Yes...I haven't forgotten that...lest you are trying to bargain with your High Priest, and lest you have forgotten who saved you when..." he grunted a bit. "Okay, let's discuss you're so-called 'terms' later...cleaning this up this of utmost importance, lest we attract unnecessary attention here...yes, I'll be expecting you in ten minutes. Bye."

He hanged up, and put back his cellphone back to his pocket. He then turned to Helga and gave her a stern look. Helga just hang her head in shame.

"A-Arnold...I..."

"This was the first night I allowed you to hunt, right?"

She nodded.

"Tell me what happened."

Arnold gazed at Helga, unblinking, waiting for her reply.

"Well, I lured him in an isolated place to avoid being seen by others, and I charmed him to catch him off-guard, just what you have instructed me to do. And I bent his will and subdued him with the power of my Gaze..."

"And?"

"I...I..." her voice trailed off, looking up at Arnold who still had his stony gaze fixed upon her, unblinking.

"I...don't know what happened next...one moment I buried my fangs into his neck, and the next thing I remember was...you were above me, pinning me against the ground...I don't know...I'm sorry..." she shook her head as she ran her finger through her black dyed hair.

"You lost yourself to your Beast," he said flatly, drawing closer to her.

"The Beast is a horrifying part of our Curse. While it gives us preternatural strength that allows us to move faster than a blink of an eye, to destroy our enemies in a single blow, to move unseen among the shadows, to see things beyond the limits of normal perception, to tap into the greatest fears of everyone and drive them to madness, to bend their will and emotions, all of the supernatural strengths we the Damned possesses, the Beast is _still a very dangerous thing_."

"The Beast seeks nothing but gratification of its urges and desires, and its self-preservation," he continued. "When you fed upon the blood of that man, your Beast sprang open from its cage and took over you. The Beast cares nothing for the Masquerade (keeping the secrecy of the existence of vampires), or any of the Traditions or laws that we the Damned have kept for centuries and ensured our survival. It would seek to feed until it had its fill, or destroy anything that it sees as a threat."

He placed his hand over her shoulder, "My Childe, this is one of the horrors that you have to struggle against for the rest of your existence as one of the Damned. The Beast always lurks within you, looking for a perfect opportunity to strike out and fulfill its primal urges. You either use its power to fulfill the Divine Purpose and become His perfect predators, or let it use you and be a mindless beast. You are embraced under the Lancea Sanctum. Do you still remember what we are, Helga?"

Helga could clearly remember that night. The night which she had chosen to leave her humanity behind, and embrace the dark existence of the Damned.

That was the night when she was Embraced.

**+-=BLACK INNOCENCE=-+ +-=BLACK INNOCENCE=-+ +-=BLACK INNOCENCE=-+**

_It was that evening when she was brought into one of the chambers in deepest catacombs under the old cathedral in the inner city district. This used to be an underground cemetery where the priests would bury their dead, and their darkest secrets as well. Now the cathedral fell into disuse, it now served as the Sanctuary for the Lancea Sanctum. The whole congregation was present for this momentous occasion. After all, it would be the High Priest that would be Embracing her._

Hooded men or women (or what she thought they were at first) circled around her and Arnold, chanting something in Latin. After a few verses, they would bow down, and then resume on chanting their prayers in some ancient dead language. Arnold, now known as as the High Priest within that circle, took off his robe, baring his pallid undead body. Two acolytes took his robes, and then chained him between the two marble posts in the middle of the circle. Arnold readied himself for what was about to happen. He witnessed and presided many Embrace Rites such as this, but this was the only second time he would be on the receiving end of such ritual. His first Childer proved to be a failure both to him and the Lancea Sanctum, so he had no choice but to drive a stake on to his heart and seal his body inside a granite sarcophagus in the deepest parts of the catacombs.

One of the acolytes took out a branding iron out of the brazier, its cross-like end glowing white from the heat. Arnold braced himself for the worst. After chanting a prayer, the then plunged the white hot iron into the High Priest's back, searing his undead flesh.

_His Beast was suddenly sent into a terrified frenzy. Fire and sunlight were the bane of their Kind, and the Beast was very much aware of that. Like a frightened animal, his Beast struggled to free from his bonds and scamper away from white hot iron, but the thick chain links prevented him from doing so. He let out a pained howl, but it does not sound like human. It sounded more like a ferocious beast who had been inflicted a mortal wound. His eyes was burning with rage as his manacles cut through his undead flesh as he struggled break free from his chains and go on a murderous rampage. _

_With sheer willpower, he pushed back his rampaging Beast back to its cage. Having existed for more than fifty years gave him a mastery over his Beast, and its occasional "tantrums" were nothing but minor annoyances that could be easily waved off._

_After finally calming his Beast down, he signalled for the acolytes to free him from his chains. He then wore back his robes, and headed to Helga, who was still in shock and awe after watching the whole proceedings. He drew closer to her. She could smell the odor of singed flesh beneath his robes. He gazed at her clear crystal blue eyes, now slowly being filled with fear and doubt. The Sire had now been cleared of the sin of damning a new soul. Now, it up to the Childe (newly turned vampire) whether to accept or reject the Embrace._

_"Tonight, Helga, you will make a choice," he spoke to her in a grave tone. This will decide your future from this point therefort. If you choose to accept the Embrace, you will live everything you knew as a mortal. You will see no sunlight, and fire will forever be your bane. You will hunt for your prey, and feed on their Blood for the rest your existence. You will leave everyone you knew as a mortal and die tonight, so that you may arise and live as one of the Damned. You shall live by the Traditions and would maintain the Masquerade, and failure to obey would mean your destruction."_

"You are given a choice, Helga," He went on, holding out his hand to her. "If you choose to reject the Embrace, then you would leave this place and live he rest of your days as a mortal. You would have no memory of everything you have seen here, of the vampires and our existence, and me. But if you choose to accept the Embrace, then take my hand. You will die tonight, and arise and live the rest of your nights as one of the Damned."

_"Your choice, Helga," a weak smile broke across his lips as he held our his hand to her. She looked at his hand. He was wearing a silver gauntlet with sharp metallic claws on each finger tip. This must be part of his ritual wear, Helga thought._

_She remembered the kind of life that awaits her outside the walls of the Sanctuary: her abusive father who does nothing but to squander her meager earnings as a check-out girl in a corner store and occasionally beat her after raping her, her mother who just died of substance abuse, and her older sister who once dreamed of making it big as a film or stage actress, but ended up being an escort girl, and now wouldn't even return her calls._

No, there is no life that awaits for her outside these walls.

She took his hand, and held on it shakily. He then smiled gave her a kiss on the cheek. Even his lips was cold as marble. She forgot, the young man that used to frequent in the corner store where she worked, the one who would always strike up a friendly conversation after she got out of work, the one who would buy breakfast for her and have a friendly chat, the one who would cause inexplicable bliss everytime he would bid her farewell but she has no idea or memory how he does it. Yes, that blond man she knew as Arnold, is known here as the High Priest of some vampire cult.

And yes, he is DEFINITELY not human.

"You have made your choice, my Childe. Tonight, you will no longer be a mortal, but be one of the Damned. Rejoice, for you will be Embraced under the wing of Lancea Sanctum. You will be one of us. You will be a Sanctified."

_"We are God's Monsters. We are His perfect predators. We are the Drinkers of Mankind. We are to fulfill our Divine Purpose: to prey upon the mortals, especially the sinners so that they may see the horrors of their dark ways and turn back to His Light."_

_"Rejoice, Helga, for you are Damned..."_

**+-=BLACK INNOCENCE=-+ +-=BLACK INNOCENCE=-+ +-=BLACK INNOCENCE=-+**

Helga fixed her crystal blue eyes at her Sire's emerald green eyes. She hesitated a bit with her reply, but nevertheless repeated the same words that had been told to her that night.

"We are the Lancea Sanctum, the Sanctified Ones. We are God's Monsters, the Drinker of Mankind. We are to prey upon mortals, especially the sinners, so that they may see he horrors of their dark ways, and turn back to His Light."

"With that said, then our seemingly mundane task of feeding should be with a purpose," Arnold said sternly. "Our aim to be His perfect predators should be manifested even while we feed."

"To lose yourself to your Beast while feeding puts yourself down to the same level of a rapacious animal whose only instinct is to feed, and attack whoever threatens it. No, we are more than that, my Childe. It is a sin to let your Beast get the best of you and act like mindless animal going on a rampage."

"You need to learn how to stay your Beast, and put a leash on it. Lest you want me to personally drive a wooden stake into your heart the next time you lose yourself to the Beast," he warned her, giving him a stern gaze.

"I-I'm sorry," Helga said, her eyes eyes welling with blood-red tears. Arnold gave her an even more disgusted look.

"Hold you tears, Helga. Do not waste your Blood on them. Tears are only for mortals. You are _no longer _one," he said, almost snarling. "Let your sorry be shown through actions, not words. I would expect your next hunt to be more successful than this one."

Helga nodded. A pair of headlights appeared then on the other end of the alley. It was a black cargo van. Two burly men got out of the van, and held the passenger door open for a young redheaded lady clad in pure black dress. She sauntered towards Arnold, her stiletto-heeled shoes making _clack, clack, clack_ sound on her every step. She stopped a few feet away from Arnold, bowed down to him, and flashed him a seductive smile when she got up. Arnold responded with a slight grunt. He knew her too well. Like them, she's not a human. Both theirs Beasts responded to the presence of another Beast, the one present within the redheaded lady.

She used to be a human named Lila Sawyer. Now, she's simply known as Lila.

"Good evening, Father Arnold," she greeted in her sultry shrill voice. "What can this humble redhead be in service of the Sanctified?"

"Helga had an accident on her first attempt on feeding by herself. Dispose of the human. No traces. Take care of the necessary paperworks, if needed," Arnold told her. He knew Lila has the means to "clean up" after Helga's mess. She runs a funeral home, and has contacts in the coroner's office.

"So our little Helga has finally popped her cherry," she smirked at Helga, who flashed her a glare. "Don't worry, young one. We all went through this somehow or another. Trust me, mine wasn't as pretty as yours."

"And that required us erasing the memories of a dozen witnesses, having your Sire Bloodhunted by the whole city, and you almost being destroyed. Trust me, Lila, no one can top the mess you made back then," Arnold said.

"That's why I am forever grateful to you, Father Arnold," she tilted her head to him. "I should have followed my Sire's fate if not for your intervention."

"Because I believe you can be of service to the Lancea Sanctum, and you still have the chance of being saved," he said flatly.

She nodded, and headed to the corpse of Helga's victim, "So what do we have here?"

She stooped down and inspected the badly-mangled corpse. His neck was almost torn off, barely hanging on. His blood have almost been completely drained off, with remnants caked on his clothes and skin. Lila shook her head, "It looks bad, but I've seen worse."

"He's a nobody. You could easily dispose of this one."

"Good," Lila grinned. "Looks like I had another addition to my growing 'family'. Thanks, Helga." She then smiled at her sweetly, and winked.

Helga snarled at her a bit. Although Lila has been acting sweet and nice to her since she got Embraced to the Lancea Sanctum, she never liked her. _Not a single bit_. Probably it is due to her sultry and seductive disposition. Or probably of her unbecoming attitude towards Arnold, despite of her owing him a debt of gratitude for saving her from being destroyed several decades ago. Helga scowled as she studied Lila's features. She perfectly hid her undeathly pallor beneath a thick layer of makeup. Her full lips was brightly painted red with lipstick. Her wavy copper red hair danced with the cold night breeze that blew through the dark alley.

"Lila, spare him from your grisly rituals. His body had been defiled enough. He deserves decent burial, or cremation. You had enough playthings in your disposal," Arnold hissed at her in disgust.

"Oh, Father Arnold," she said back in her usual sultry voice as she walked around him, running her long, taut fingers across his back. "I'm _ever so_ sure you can spare this one for me, oh High Priest."

"Has not it been enough that I tolerated your necromancy within our domain, though the Lancea Sanctum had been expressedly forbidden such practices?!" he nearly roared at her. "If I had it my way, I would have you crucified on the cathedral roof facing the rising sun, and have your haven destroyed and razed to the ground!"

"Oh most esteemed High Priest," she drew closer to him, and whispered to his ear. "I trust your wisdom, Father Arnold. But have you forgotten what have saved your High Priesthood when some heretic staged an attack on the Sanctuary a few years ago, Father Arnold?"

"Yes, I have not forgotten," Arnold replied, his voiced mellowed down as he gazed upon her brown eyes. He felt his Beast was enamored over her. There was something in her that made him _like her._ Her eyes shimmered brighter, her wavy copper red hair seemed to have an unearthly glow emanating from it, and her full red lips was inviting. There was something with Lila that would have melted Arnold into submitting into doing her bidding. Something alluring...

Even Helga, who was a moment ago was seething, was now looking at Lila through different eyes. She could not explain what she was feeling. It was as if she wanted to submit her every desire in order to please her. _What was this feeling_, she thought. Love? Her Beast was strongly enamored with her, and all of the sudden turned into a docile pet that begs for her pat or touch.

For a newly-turned vampire such as Helga, Lila would seem like a goddess incarnate that deserves veneration, if not worship. But for Arnold who had been in existence as a vampire for more than fifty or sixty years, these tricks were no longer new to him. He have seen vampires, those who share Lila's bloodline, use this again and again to manipulate both people and vampires' emotion into submitting to their will and doing their bidding. This was a trick of Lila's Blood. She summons its power to manipulate those around her into being docile bootlickers and sycophants.

"Arnold, it was my 'family' that helped defend the Sanctuary against that heretic Arnie who wished to grab your High Priesthood from your hands," she went on with her sultry voice, still exuding the supernatural alluring aura that held Arnold and Helga spellbound. "All I ask for you is to let me do my bidding on this man's body. After all, he's a nobody..."

_**WHOOSH! THUGSH!**_

Lila was literally swept and was pinned against the wall by some unseen force in a split second. Suddenly, her alluring aura that she was exuding disappeared, and Helga snapped out of her trance in an instant. Lila saw Arnold, her eyes burning with rage, his hands pinning her by the neck against the wall. Her two burly escorts rushed to save her, but Arnold turned at them, giving them a sharp glare.

"Back off!" he roared at them, his green eyes piercing through theirs and into their minds.

The burly men obediently backed off. His words carry more weight than their duty to protect their mistress. For some inexplicable reason, they found themselves unable to disobey him. Arnold has mastered the power of his bloodline that even a momentary glance was enough to bend the will of the person and obey his command. He then turned to Lila, who was squirming around, trying to yank off his grip fuelled by the preternatural strength of his Blood.

"You insolent fool! How dare you try to use the Charm on me, your High Priest?! You take me for a common mortal that you could charm and let him do your bidding?! I should have you staked right now for your insubordination!"

"I-I-I'm sorry, my High Priest..." Lila vainly tried struggle her way out of his grip, but Arnold held her higher, her feet now kicking helplessly in the air.

He fixed his eyes on Lila's brown orbs, "You shall not use your Charm on me _ever again_. Understood?!"

Lila obediently nodded. Arnold let go of her, and she fell on the ground. She then stood up, dusting off and smoothing her dress.

"Get the body out of here. Clean everything up. And like I've told you, dispose of the body. _No funny stuff_, or else," he sternly warned her.

"Y-yes, Father Arnold," she nodded reverently, her sassiness earlier faded as quickly as that. She turned to her burly escorts, "Boys, let's get to work!"

They hopped into action and took out a stretcher with a body bag, put the body inside and carried it back to the cargo van. They then got out again with a portable sprayer and scrub, spraying the scene with bleach and scrubbing every spot of blood, erasing any evidences or traces of the grisly event tonight.

Helga watched the men worked meticulously in erasing any traces of her "accident". He knew what they were. Blood Slaves. Men who were fed with Blood, and were made addicted to it, and therefore making them slaves who would do their mistress's bidding. Her Sire employs a number of Blood Slaves who perform mundane and often menial tasks, ranging from servants who clean and maintains the grounds, to guards who prevent any interlopers and intruders who might threaten the Sanctuary and the havens of the vampires underneath it.

"Helga, let's go," Arnold called her.

"Where are we going?"

"Back to the Sanctuary. It will be dawn in less that couple of hours. I have summoned a driver to pick us. He'll be here shortly."

Helga glanced at her watch. It's past four-thirty. The sun would rise in a couple of hours, and that would be the last thing that they would want to see as vampires. She followed Arnold, walking past Lila and her Blood Slaves who were still cleaning up the scene.

"Careful the next time you feed, Helga. You sure make quite a mess when you lose it," Lila quipped as she walked past her.

Helga turned to shoot a glare to the redheaded vampire, who was now smirking at her. She growled and snarled a bit at her, but she knew that Lila was Embraced decades before her. She will bide her time until she could learn their ways, and master the powers of her bloodline and control her Beast as effective as her Sire. Then that's the time she would get back on her.

After all, she got _a whole eternity_ to plot her vengeance, she mused.

She ran her fingers through her jet black dyed hair. She knew that when she wakes up the next evening, her hair will go back to the same blonde one that she had when she was Embraced. This was now her life, or "un-life". Her body will be forever state of stagnancy: never changing, never evolving. She had to feed from time to time, unless her Beast would go on a starved rampage. She will be forever struggling to keep whatever shred of humanity left from her Embrace intact from being devoured by her Beast.

And she has to play by the rules set by the vampire society, lest she find herself on the receiving end of the harsh and cruel vampiric justice. True, Arnold once told her that being Embraced was not being about freedom from the bonds of mortality, but rather being freed from mortality only to move to a smaller cage.

A smaller cage it may be, but an _interesting and gilded one_, nevertheless. Helga smiled a bit as their car that would drive her and her Sire to the Sanctuary arrived. She sighed and said to herself as the car drove them to the Sanctuary:

_"Rejoice now, Helga, for you are now Damned..."_


	3. Danse Macabre

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold!, its characters, and the vampire covenants originally conceived and currently owned by White Wolf Entertainment.**

**A/N: I would like to thank BettyAwesome for her review, and for encouraging me to continue this horror-gothic anthology. ^^,**

**Danse Macabre**

The sun had just set, and the night has fallen.

Rhonda's eyes fluttered open, the same way it did in nights like this for the past eighty years. She had woken up from her slumber. The inert Blood within her undead body had began to stir in her as she got up from her bed. She checked the time at the clock on the table. It's almost seven in the evening. She sighed. She had a long night ahead of her.

She got out of her bed and donned a bathrobe to cover her naked pale body. She gazed around her room. It was decorated and arranged in her preferred Victorian theme. Her bed on which she slumbers upon every break of dawn until sunset was an original Victorian-era piece. She laughed at the thought of getting a coffin as her bed. She's not going to fall into the common vampire movie stereotype that most of her Kindred (fellow vampires) subscribe to. The pale incandescent lamps provided the light. Her room was located in the deep basement of her mansion. It had no windows or any ventilation. The air was dank and stale, but it didn't matter for her. After all, she has no need for breathing ever since she was turned into one of the Undead.

**KNOCK! KNOCK!**

"Come in."

A middle-aged man in a dark suit opened the door. It was Winston, her butler, and her Blood Slave for the past fifteen years. He looked exactly the way he had been since he had been her Blood Slave. It's the power of her Blood that had kept his aging at bay, and kept him in loyal servitude to her. Every now and then, she would allow him to feed on her Blood to retain him with her. And this goes to all of her other Blood Slaves, who either served as her guards to protect her haven, lawyers and accountants that kept the paper trail clean so that they may not suspect her of living in the same estate for the past seventy years, and servants who did the most menial tasks of cleaning, taking care of her mansion, and from time to time, bringing people to her for her to feed upon.

"My Lady, your dress is ready for tonight. If you wish to feed, a store of blood bags had arrived from the blood bank," he said languidly.

Rhonda sighed. Feeding from a blood bag again. Although human blood coming from a bag somewhat nourishes her, nothing compared to the feeling and sensation of feeding from a living, breathing human. It had been a while since she last fed upon a live mortal. But she had to settle for this. She had no time to hunt. She had pressing matters to settle tonight. Such is the burden of the Prince of Hillwood.

"Alright. I'll be coming out a minute. You may leave, Winston," she waved off, dismissing her butler. He bowed low and left without saying anything.

Rhonda then headed out of her bedroom and went into the adjoining dressing chamber, where her black cocktail dress she'll be wearing was mounted on a body mannequin. Although she had a whole wardrobe of dresses thrice as fancy as this, she preferred this simple cocktail dress as this was more suited for the occasion. This was not some pompous party or social function that her vampire faction, the noble and aristocratic Invictus, usually hosts from time to time. This was the Court, a gathering of all the city's vampires in order to discuss matters concerning them, settle disputes, and to try and punish those who had been accused of breaking the Traditions. The latter seemed to be the main business of tonight's Court. Rhonda smiled a bit. This would be another venue for her to demonstrate and show her authority to the Kindred of Hillwood, especially to the neonates (newly-turned vampires), and the elder Kindred to remind them that she still wields power over the Kindred of the City.

She is Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd, the Prince of Hillwood, the Lady of the Invictus. For almost forty years, she had ruled the city with an iron fist, a type of rule which she calls as "benevolent despotism". She had successfully shot down any opposition and rivals to her rule, and forged alliances with other vampire organizations to cement her reign over the city. For the majority of her reign, it was marked by a seemingly peaceful coexistence between them.

She stripped her bedclothes, and took a look at her naked, pale undead body on the full-body mirror. Her reflection was hazy and she could only make out the rough outline of herself, just like any vampire who would look himself on the mirror, or take a photograph of himself. Nevertheless, her body was still the same it was before she was Embraced more than seventy years ago. She was just in her late twenties when a dark stranger came to the Wellington-Lloyd mansion, and made her an offer difficult for her to refuse, given the dire financial status her family was experiencing back then...

She then slipped into the black cocktail dress her butler chose for her. She then donned her dainty black velvet opera gloves, and slip into her pair of stiletto-heeled pumps. After that, she stepped out of the dressing screen, sat in front of her large antique brown vanity, and pulled the rope dangling beside it. After a few minutes, a knock came into the door.

"Come in."

Two young blonde girls in their late teens dressed in maid uniform made their way into her dressing chamber. They're twins, and their golden locks were braided in the same fashion. They looked exactly the same, same height, same hazel eyes, with little or no distinct features that would set them apart from each other. They stopped a few feet away from Rhonda, and bowed down to her.

"We're here, Mistress," the twin servants chorused in a thick Eastern European accent.

"Mara, Klara, be a dear and dress my hair please. Your Mistress has an important gathering to attend this evening," Rhonda said without even turning to look at them, gazing at them only through the mirror on the vanity.

"Yes Mistress, it shall be done," one of the twins replied. She then turned to her sister. "_Sora mea_ (my sister), you do Mistress's left hair, I'll do the right."

"Yes, _sora mea. _Oh how I love dressing our Mistress's hair, don't you?" she gleefully replied.

Her sister simply nodded as they began to work on dressing up Rhonda's raven black hair. They started with combing her hair, then began working on it with a curling iron. As they twist and twirl her hair around the hot iron, Rhonda's Beast would twitch a bit within her whenever the hot curling iron would come dangerously close to contact with her pallid skin. It was not too long ago that her former servant made a grave mistake of letting the iron touch the back of her neck. Her Beast flew into rage, and clawed her jaw off with a single swipe before she drained every drop of blood from her poor servant. But these twins were dexterous with their hands, doing their job perfectly while not letting the hot iron touch any part of her skin. She had not made a mistake of purchasing these Romanian twins from the Russian mob, where they were smuggled into the country to appear in underage porn flicks, and later prostituted to clients who preferred to have a taste of young flesh. It's better to have them in her mansion serving her than in the hands of the Russian mafia where they were sold like meat to pedophiles eager to get their hands on them, she thought. After all, they get paid, fed and treated well, in exchange of their servitude, and of course, one more thing...

Rhonda gazed on the mirror on the vanity. She can see her hazy reflection on it, behind her was the clear reflection of her twin servants, who were still busy dressing her hair, combing, twisting it with a curling iron, setting in place with hairpins, and spraying it with hairspray to keep its shape and form. She turned and her gaze fell upon the neck of one of her twin servants as she leaned toward Rhonda to work on the intricate details of her braid. She caught a whiff of her bodily scent; the scent of her sweat and grime, the scent of _life_. They must have been working in the kitchens when she summoned them to dress her hair. That irresistible scent...she can feel her Beast stirring within her, driven from its cage by this scent; a prospect of Blood to fill its unending hunger.

"Mara, who's turn is it now?" she asked one of them.

"I believe it's _sora mea's _turn now, Mistress," she replied.

"Very well then. Come closer, Klara," she said, beckoning her. The servant girl obediently drew close to her, baring her neck to her. Rhonda first kissed her sweaty, grimy neck, and licked the spot just where her jugular vein was.

_"My, my...blood had never been this good..."_

She then bared her fangs, and let them sink into her neck. Blood began to fill her mouth, as the servant girl Klara moaned in deep ecstasy of the Kiss. This ecstasy was the one she and her sister always longed for. It's better than any drug that their former mafia handlers would force them to take before performing in smut films. Mara looked at her sister with envy as she continued working on her Mistress' hair. It was her sister's turn, after all. Last time, Mara almost melted into a puddle when her Mistress gave her the Kiss. It was her sister Klara who stood by and probably watched them in envy back then. Rhonda moaned as blood continued to flow from the servant girl's vein into her mouth and down to her throat. Rhonda was also caught in ecstasy as well. The furnace within her boiled as it filled with blood that fuels its fire. Her Beast was now mad with hunger, still not satiated, still wanting for more.

As she felt that her Beast was slowly taking over her, demanding to drain every drop of life-giving fluid from her servant girl, she abruptly detached from her neck, blood stll dripping from the corner of her lips. She looked at the two puncture wounds on Klara's neck, blood gushing out from it. She lapped the blood that have flowed out of the servant girl's wounds with her long tongue, and then licked the bite wounds. The wounds magically disappeared, sealing them, leaving no scars or any marks at all. This was the power of the Kiss: to seal any wounds caused by a vampires bite by simply licking it, hence leaving no traces of the deed being ever done.

Mara managed to finish dressing her Mistress' hair even while she was feeding on her twin sister. Satisfied with her work, she sprayed a bit of hairspray on her Mistress' hair.

"That will do, my child," Rhonda said to the twins.

Klara straightened up, her lips a bit more pale. Her knees were shaky, she swayed like a drunk as she struggled not to faint due to the sudden loss of blood. Her sister rushed to her side, helping her up, rubbing her cheeks to keep her consciousness.

"Oh, I must have took a bit too much. I'm sorry, my child," Rhonda apologized, looking at Klara with compassionate eyes.

"It's alright, my Mistress," she replied weakly. "Your hair looks lovely, my Mistress."

"Thank you, my child. The two of you have done a great job dressing my hair. You deserve a rest," Rhonda said, dismissing her twin servants.

"Thank you, My Mistress. We're taking our leave now," they chorused, and then bowed down to her. Klara suddenly fell over, but her sister was quick enough to catch her.

"_Sora mea_, are you alright?" Mara asked, her voice filled with worry.

"I...I'm alright, _sora mea. _I just need a rest, that's all," she replied weakly, trying to reassure her. Mara nodded, heading out of Rhonda's dressing chamber with her sister helping her through her steps.

Rhonda licked her lips of any remnants of blood she fed upon from Klara. Blood coming from a blood bag may nourish her the same, but nothing would compare to the taste of it coming from a _living, breathing vessel._

After putting on her makeup to mask her deathly pallor, she took her crystal perfume bottle with an antique atomizer, and sprayed some perfume on to her chest and neck to cover the odor of musty undead flesh. She then wore her complete set of expensive jewelry, the reminder of her wealth before the stock market crash of the 1930s sent her family to a destitute state. Satisfied with her look, she headed out of her dressing chamber and went to the great dining hall were Winston, her butler, was waiting for her together with one of her male servants. They bowed down to her as she came into the hall.

"My Lady, the limousine is ready outside. Here is the package sent from the blood bank," Winston said, motioning the male servant to step forward. He then presented a small icebox with a red cross label on the side to Rhonda. She took it and took off its lid to check its contents. There were three blood bags inside, chilled with dry ice. She simply nodded as she handed it back to the servant.

"Put it inside the car. I'm quite full. Perhaps Thaddeus or Harold may want to feed while we're on our way to the Elysium. And speaking of which, where are they?" she asked her butler.

"They are outside in the driveway, waiting for you, my Lady. They have finished dressing up quite early, I say," he promptly replied.

"Very well then, I see no reason to dillydally. We'll be on our way now, Winston."

"Certainly, my Lady," he bowed down to her, and led the way to the front door of the mansion, with the male servant bearing the ice box containing the blood bags behind him, and their mistress Rhonda at the tail of the procession. Winston then opened the door for her. She then headed out and made her way down the steps of the porch of her mansion, where Thaddeus Gammelthorpe and Harold Behrman awaited.

Thaddeus and Harold looked at the lady vampire walking down the steps. Their Beasts reacted strongly in the presence of a much stronger Beast who was approaching them. As a feral animal whose only concern was survival, their Beasts was screaming within them, forcing them to run, cower in fear, or scram out with their tails between their legs before this stronger Beast tears them to pieces. But they have known Rhonda for decades now, and had been staying in her mansion for years now, sleeping in the cellars beneath her palatial estate.

With enough willpower, they pushed their Beasts back into its cage, and bowed down to the much older vampire in front of them.

"Good evening, my Lady," Thaddeus greeted.

"Good evening, Thaddeus," she greeted back, holding out her hand, which he kissed. She then turned to Harold, who simply bowed down low to her.

"My Lady," he greeted gruffly.

"Good evening, Harold," Rhonda nodded, acknowledging his greeting. Rhonda took a look at these two vampires whom she shared her mansion with. Although it had been years when Thaddeus and Harold had moved in to her mansion, it always gives satisfaction to her older, more powerful Beast whenever she sees these two younger vampires showing outward gestures of submission to her power and authority. At least this allows her to easily cage in her Beast, lest it goes into rampage and disgrace herself by allowing it to take over her. Such was the Curse: to walk in a razor-thin line between bestiality and whatever was left of her humanity.

It was years ago when Rhonda asked Thaddeus and Harold to move in to her mansion after they have been appointed as members of her court. It is important to keep them close in case that she would need them for whatever purpose that concerned the affairs of the Kindred of Hillwood, or her reign as the Prince. Besides, her position as the Prince would mean that some vampires who were foolish enough to challenge her power might think of attacking her mansion. It is important to keep her two closest ally in her court near her at all times to protect her. Plus, she could use a steamy _menage a trois _from time to time with the two of them. Undead as they may be, they were not free from the desires and passions of the flesh.

"Looking so lovely tonight, my lady," Thaddeus complimented a bit too ingratiatingly. Rhonda merely laughed.

"Oh Thaddeus, you may be good at detecting lies, but you are _very poor_ in weaving lies yourself," she quipped back. "But thank you. You're not half bad yourself."

"Aww, you got me there, My Lady," he replied, chuckling. "But thank you, My Lady." He tipped his fedora hat to her. She nodded at him, acknowledging his salute. Rhonda then turned Harold, who seemed pensive, gazing blankly at the fountain in front of the mansion.

"Harold, is anything wrong?" Rhonda asked.

"Nothing, my Lady," he replied, snapping out of his daze.

"Are you ready for tonight's Court?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"You realize that being the new Hound of our city means that you'll be playing an important role tonight?"

"Yes, my Lady," he replied in the same monotone.

"Are you prepared?"

"I'm ready, my Lady."

Rhonda nodded at him and sighed. Harold had never been as verbose as Thaddeus. It's rare to get more than ten words out of him. But what he lacked in words, he made it up with his martial ability. His taciturnity severely contrasts his ferocity during combat. He was a known and feared fighter, rumored to have sent three or five vampires to their Final Deaths in a single fight. Normally, the Kindred of high status and station would tag along their retinue of bodyguards, but for Rhonda, Harold would be more than enough to be both her bodyguard, and her executioner.

"Very well, we best be on our way now. If you wish to feed, you may take the blood inside the ice box in the car," she said to the two vampires.

"Thank you, my Lady," Harold said, bowing low to her.

"Your kindness exceeds your beauty tonight, My Lady," Thaddeus said ingratiatingly.

"Enough with your flattery, Thaddeus. Get in the car. The hour grows late," she snapped back, not amused with him. They then headed to the back of the limousine where the uniformed chauffeur held the door open for the three of them. Rhonda slipped in first before Thaddeus and Harold. The chauffeur then went back to the driver's seat, started the engine, and headed to the old Metropolitan Opera Theater, where tonight's Court would be held. Thaddeus and Harold opened the ice box and took the blood bag inside. Thaddeus bared his fangs and bit the end of the bag, sucking the blood silently from the hole. Harold, on the other hand, bit the middle of the blood bag and slurped its contents loudly. Thaddeus could only look with obvious disapproval at Harold's lack of manners.

Rhonda did not pay attention to her two consorts' feeding manners, or lack thereof. She stared blankly through the window, gazing at the old dilapidated buildings that lined the Main Avenue. These buildings used to be theaters, jazz bars, restaurants, cafes, and shops back in the time when she could still venture into the daylight. Now, they were nothing but old, forgotten, dusty, crumbling shells of their former selves. Time truly changes everything. Everything except _them_.

This was the part of their Curse: to be unchanging, static, and stagnant while everybody and everything around them either dies or changes into something totally unrecognizable. As the ruling monarch of this city, it was her responsibility to guide her Kindred through the ever-changing world, and ensure that their Kind would endure for ages more. Even it meant ruling her Kindred with an iron fist.

The ends _always_ justifies the means.


End file.
